Amazon Unbound

A lyric for our women serving in combat.

                        

           Amazon Unbound

As she struggled to become less accessible, moving
between the lines and the perimeter
vagina-less, she refused to take death as a metaphor 

for inwardness or the red push forward; but instead
insisted on blood spilt directly, blood
gone to war and blood returned quickly; muddied,

perhaps, perhaps too deep a wound or apple ripped
straight from the land. And if she
sat by herself at the edge of the fire; if she merely 

rubbed her hands when the sergeant sat down next
to her, and offered her his cigarette:
it was hardly some kind of condolence or dimly lit rose

on a paper white stem that she pressed between her lips;
but a mute conversation she shared with
her brothers: a rocket, a flame: a smoldering nightmare.

 

© Mark MacDonald 2012